


Blossom and Bloom

by toocleverfox



Category: Crier's War Trilogy - Nina Varela
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/F, Mutual Pining, benjy is the best wingman, it kind of is if you squint, not exactly a royalty au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toocleverfox/pseuds/toocleverfox
Summary: “Hey,” a voice called from the back of the store. “The shop’s closed.”A girl stepped out from a backroom. Her brown hair fell to her shoulders and an apron was tied around her waist. She had a smudge of dirt on her cheek. And she was frowning at Crier.When Crier is trying to get home on a rainy night, she takes shelter in a flower shop.Ayla is the owner.
Relationships: Ayla/Crier (Crier's War)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 56





	1. Crier

_ scratches from the branches _

_ we took our chances, sure enough _

_ i am brambles _

_ but i am tangled in your love _

\- Bullet Holes by Gregory Alan Isakov

The water on the pavement splashed under her boots as Crier ran down the sidewalk. The rain was coming down hard and her whole body was soaked. She held her grey bomber jacket over her head, but it was useless. Her shirt was glued to her body from the water and her jeans felt like ice against her skin every time she moved. No doubt her backpack and all its contents were soaked, too.

She ran even faster, remembering all the notes that were likely getting ruined by the rain. She’d just started to understand her calculus homework. She  _ needed  _ those notes. She looked around as she ran, trying to find a place that was open. There were a few coffee shops along the road, but there were closed signs already on their doors. At this point she was debating whether to just run all the way back to her house, but then she spotted a shop that still had an open sign up.

Quickly, she crossed the street and entered the shop, a bell ringing above her head when she walked in. Immediately, the aroma overwhelmed her and she breathed in deeply. From floor to ceiling, the store was filled with flowers of every kind. There were large potted flowers in corners, hanging baskets that almost grazed the top of Crier’s head, small potted flowers tucked into crevices, and hand painted signs with flower names. Crier noted that the scientific names were also painted on, which she found oddly charming. 

To Crier’s right, there was a wooden counter with a cash register. There were a few fallen petals and leaves on the counter, with little pieces of ribbon and tape scattered around. A few pieces had fallen over onto the floor. The shop also had a single chandelier hanging in the middle of the room, filling the shop with a warm glow. It felt comforting, like a home should feel. 

It was beautiful.

“Hey,” a voice called from the back of the store. “The shop’s closed.”

A girl stepped out from a backroom. Her brown hair fell to her shoulders and an apron was tied around her waist. She had a smudge of dirt on her cheek. And she was frowning at Crier.

Crier pointed behind her with her thumb, realizing the girl was waiting for her to speak. “The sign said you were open.”

The girl huffed and brushed past Crier. She walked over to the door and flipped the sign, locking the door, while grumbling something that sounded like someone’s name under her breath.

When she turned back to her, Crier realized that she was a lot taller than the other girl. She was short, like  _ really  _ short. From this angle she could see the way the dim light of the shop reflected in her eyes. The scowl on her face ruined the shine of her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Crier said, pulling her backpack off to hold in her hands. “It’s raining really hard outside. I wanted to get out of the rain for a second, but every shop I passed was closed.”

The girl uncrossed her arms and sighed. “Alright. You can stay here for a little bit, I have to finish closing up anyway.” She walked past Crier and went into the door she’d come out of. “You can follow me,” she called from the other room.

Crier awkwardly followed the girl and gasped quietly when she saw the room. The walls were a light yellow color, like a bird’s egg. It was small, with a wooden desk and chair, but, like the main room, there were plants scattered around. There was a small window that overlooked the main road in front of the shop and a few candles that were fixated onto the wall. There was even a bookshelf next to a small, flower patterned couch where an orange cat lay. 

It blinked at Crier.

“What?” the girl asked.

Crier startled to find the girl watching her, her arms crossed again. “It’s lovely in here,” Crier admitted, eyes darting around to drink everything in.

“Oh,” the girl said, like she hadn’t expected that answer. She cleared her throat and fiddled with a stack of papers on the desk. “Well, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

The girl turned to her and cleared her throat again. “I can get you a towel and some clothes, if you’d like.” 

Crier perked up at the idea of getting out of her wet clothes. “Clothes?”

The girl nodded. “I live upstairs,” she explained, pointing a finger up at the ceiling. She pursed her lips and hummed. “I’m not sure if my clothes would fit you... Let me ask my friend.” With that, she barreled out of the room, spooking the cat from it’s spot on the couch. 

While she waited for the girl to return, Crier placed her backpack and her jacket on the floor, hoping the girl wouldn’t mind that she was dripping water on the rug. She crouched down to pull out her notebook and found it soaking wet. She groaned and rubbed her forehead. 

If only she’d had the guts to stay in the library. 

Crier turned at the sound of the girl returning.

“So,” she said, holding up two articles of clothing for Crier to see, “My friend said you can wear his old sweater and sweatpants.”

“Oh,” Crier said, taking them out of her hands. “Is he okay with that?”

“Yeah, he said it’s no big deal.” 

“Well, tell him thank you.” 

“Sure.” She looked down at Crier’s backpack, her waterlogged notebook sitting on top. 

Crier flushed and rushed to pick them up. “I’m so sorry! I made a mess of your floor.” 

“It’s fine,” she said, waving her hand. “It’s a flower shop, I’ve spilled water and dirt on that carpet more times than I can count.” She walked around to the desk and sat down, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “You can change in the bathroom. It’s just up the stairs on the right.” 

Crier nodded her thanks and quickly made her way out of the room. She hadn’t noticed the staircase leading up to the second floor. It was next to the counter, blocked off by a white curtain. She parted the fabric and walked up the creaking steps, finding the bathroom. From the top of the stairs, she could see a small living room with an adjoined kitchen. A guy stood in the kitchen, his back to Crier as he stirred a spoon in a mug. 

She ducked into the bathroom, not wanting to get caught snooping when the girl had offered her clothes and place to dry off. She changed quickly, briefly sparing a glance at the bathroom. It was small, like most of the shop, with a vase filled with fresh flowers sitting on top of the toilet. 

The whole house felt so  _ homey _ and so  _ loved _ it made Crier’s chest ache at how different her own house was compared to it. 

She opened the bathroom door and shuffled down the stairs, heading into the backroom. The girl was still there, sitting at the desk, writing something down in a thin notebook. The cat hadn’t moved from the couch and it blinked at Crier, it’s green eyes watching her.

The girl glanced up. “Everything fit okay?” 

Crier looked down and nodded. “Yes, it fits fine. Thank you again.” 

“No problem,” the girl said, and then hesitated. “Can I ask you why you were out in the rain at ten at night?” 

Crier awkwardly laughed. “It’s… Complicated.” 

The girl glanced at the window behind her, rain still hammering the glass. “We’ve got time.” She gestured to the couch. “You can sit down if you want.”

“Oh, thank you,” Crier said and shuffled over to the couch. She sat down, back ramrod straight. There was an awkward tension in the room and she wasn’t sure how to break it. She reached out to pet the cat that was still sitting on the cushion. She stroked its head and began to explain, smiling faintly at the purring noise the cat let out. “I go to Rabu University, just a few blocks away.”

The girl nodded and gave Crier what looked like a smile. “I do, too.”

Crier brightened. “You do? I’ve never seen you before.”

The girl shrugged. “It’s a big place.”

She wasn’t wrong. RU had a large campus and it was easy to get lost. Crier had gotten lost more times than she could count. 

“Well, I was in the library, studying for an exam I have in two days,” Crier continued. “And I saw someone I’ve been actively trying to avoid. While I was studying, I heard some people talking and I looked up and spotted him walking over with a friend. Luckily, he hadn’t noticed me, so I just grabbed my stuff and ran.” Crier let out a small laugh. “I barely even noticed it was raining until I stopped to catch my breath.” 

The girl clicked her tongue. “Wow. You must hate this guy.”

Crier shook her head. “It’s not that I hate him, I just… He’s just very pushy,” she settled on.

“He doesn’t understand the word ‘no’?” the girl said, raising an eyebrow. 

Crier gave her a small smile. “Not exactly.”

“You should tell someone,” the girl said, moving her notebook into the desk drawer. “That sounds like harassment.” 

“He hasn’t done anything  _ bad, _ he just can’t seem to understand when I’m done with the conversation.” Crier looked back down at the cat, which had scooted closer to her leg. “Plus, I’ve known him since I was a kid. He’s a family friend.”

The girl made a face. She looked like she was ready to jump into a fight, guns blazing. “That doesn’t excuse it.”

“I know, I know, but trust me, he isn’t a bad person, I just don’t like talking to him.” Crier rubbed the cat’s ear. 

The girl laughed a little, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “I can understand that.” 

There wasn’t much more to say after that. She’d already overstayed her welcome, but Crier- Crier felt at peace in the little flower shop. Which didn’t make any sense at all. She’d barreled in, soaking wet, and was wearing a stranger’s clothes. 

And yet, she didn’t want to leave, but she knew she needed to. 

“The rain stopped,” she said, gesturing to the window. She didn’t bother to tell her it had stopped raining a few minutes ago. 

Crier saw something flash across the girl’s face as she turned to look behind her at the window, but it was gone by the time she’d turned back around.

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t notice.” The girl stood up and yawned, hiding it behind her hand. She glanced outside again. It was so dark that Crier couldn’t even see the street lights through the glass. “Will you be okay walking home this late?” she asked. 

Crier nodded and gave the cat one last head rub before standing up. “I’ll be fine. I’ve stayed out later than this studying in the library. She pulled out her keys and flashed a knife at the girl. “I’ve taken self defense classes.”

The girl nodded sagely. “Well then, that eases my conscience.” She walked to the door and beckoned for Crier to follow. 

Crier picked up her notebook and bag, ignoring how the notebook dripped water down her arm. She’d deal with her ruined notes tomorrow. She followed the girl to the front door and stood behind her as she unlocked it. 

When she turned around, her eyes fell to Crier’s notebook. “That doesn’t look good.”

Crier sighed. “My Calc notes are most likely ruined. I’ll have to find a classmate who’s willing to let me borrow theirs.” 

“You’re taking Calc right now, like Introductory Calculus?” Crier nodded and the girl said, “I took that last semester. I can help you out if you want. You know where I work. And live,” she added.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Crier asked, dumbfounded that this girl wanted to see her again. “I barged in here after closing and practically stole clothes from your friend.”

The girl waved her hand. “I don’t do much when there aren’t any customers. I could help you study in the backroom. Plus,” she added, “You don’t have to worry about that guy finding you here.”

Crier smiled wider than she thought possible. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” the girl laughed lightly, rubbing the back of her neck. “It can get boring here. You’d be making my day, honestly.”

“Wow, okay, thank you, that would be great.” Crier shouldered her backpack and gave the girl another smile. “Goodbye then.”

“See you later,” the girl said and closed the door behind Crier.

The darkness was a stark contrast to the warm light of the store and Crier blinked her eyes, waiting for them to adjust. She turned around, staring at the peeling paint on the front door. She looked to her left at the store’s window and saw the girl turning off the main light, shrouding the store in darkness as black as the outside world.

Crier continued to stare into the darkened store and wondered why she couldn’t find it in herself to leave. 

It was only once she was in the comfort of her bed, did Crier realize that she’d never asked for the girl’s name. 

❀

The next day, rather than head to the library after her last class, Crier left campus and made a beeline for the flower shop a few blocks away. It looked different in the light, with an array of flowers out front and vines that curled around the faded sign above the door.

_Siena’s Garden_ it read in a delicate script. 

Crier looked at for a second longer before opening the front door, the bell ringing above her head. 

“Hi,” a guy, who looked about the same age as Crier, greeted her. “Can I help you find anything?” 

Crier frowned. She’d been expecting the girl to be at the counter, not another worker. Maybe she was upstairs. 

“I was here last night- Oh!” Crier realized this was the guy she’d seen the night before, upstairs in the kitchen. She dug out a folded sweatshirt and sweats from her backpack. “These must be yours,” she said, offering them to the boy. 

The boy’s smile grew. “I didn’t realize you’d bring them back.” He shook his head and held out his hands. “You can keep them if you want. They don’t really fit me anymore, that’s why I let Ayla take them.”

Crier cocked her head.“Ayla?” 

“My friend. The owner of this store.” The man frowned. “The girl you talked to last night…”

“Oh, right! We didn’t exchange names,” Crier admitted, embarrassed.

The man just snorted out a laugh. “Sounds like Ayla. Her manners aren’t the best.” He stuck out his hand. “I, on the other hand, have manners. I’m Benjy. What’s your name?” 

Crier smiled and shook his hand. “I’m Crier.” 

“You look oddly familiar.” Benjy pursed his lips and dropped her hand. “Why do I feel like I know you?”

Crier hesitated, and then said, “You’ve probably heard of my father, Hesod.”

Something dark crossed Benjy’s face, but it was gone so fast Crier thought she must have imagined it.

“You’re Hesod’s  _ daughter?” _ Benjy asked, and then let out a low whistle before Crier could respond. “You must have so many people asking you for favors.”

Cried laughed, glad to see her father’s name didn’t seem bother Benjy like it did most people.

“I don’t tend to parade my family status around, it makes it hard to make friends.” Benjy nodded as she explained. “When I was younger, I used to tell people that my father was the governor, but I learned to wait until after I’d befriended people to tell them the truth. Or until they saw my house,” she added. “Whichever came first.”

Benjy nodded again. “I get that. You want people to get to know you for who you are, not who your father is.”

“Exactly,” Crier said, smiling. 

Benjy clapped his hands together. “Well, it was nice talking to you, but I have a few things to take care of.” He ducked down behind the counter and came up with a small box in his hand. “You’re here for Ayla, right? Or did you just want to return the clothes?” 

“Oh, um, well, I did want to return the clothes,” Crier explained. “But I was hoping I could see Ayla, too. She promised she’d help me study.”

Benjy almost dropped the box. He blinked at Crier. “Ayla offered to help you study?” he asked slowly.

“Yes… Is- Did she tell you something differently?” Crier felt her face heat up. Had Ayla changed her mind? Had she realized, in the morning when her mind was rejuvenated, that it was crazy to invite a stranger to your home to study? 

“No, no, it’s just-” Benjy ran a hand through his hair. “Ayla never helps  _ me  _ study,” he pouted. He shrugged and squeezed past Crier. “You must have made quite an impression.”

Crier frowned.  _ Had  _ she made an impression? If by impression he meant stumbling into a store after closing, soaking wet and then stealing clothes, then yes, Crier supposed, she had made quite an impression. 

Crier was about to ask Benjy what he meant by that when the door to the shop opened and Ayla walked in. 

Her short hair was slightly frizzy and she had a smudge of dirt on her cheekbone. She looked otherworldly with the shop’s flowers making a halo around her. Her eyes wandered from Benjy to Crier and Crier watched as her eyes flashed with recognition. 

“Oh. Hi,” she breathed.

Crier looked down at her clothes and let out a quiet laugh.

‘What?” Ayla’s expression became guarded immediately. “Why are you laughing?”

Crier pointed at her apron. “I like the pun.”

Ayla looked down at her clothes, as if she’d forgotten what she was wearing, and her expression cleared.

Her apron read,  _ I Be-Leaf In You, _ with a cartoon flower smiling below the words.

“Thanks,” she said, looking back up, slightly embarrassed. “Benjy got it for me for my birthday.”

“You’re welcome for that,” Benjy said from behind Crier, startling her. She’d forgotten he was there. 

Ayla rolled her eyes and walked over to lightly punch Benjy in the arm. “Knock it off.” She walked around the corner and beckoned for Crier to follow. She held two fingers up to her eyes and then pointed them at Benjy. “You better go restock. I’m watching you.”

“Oh, please,” Benjy laughed. “You won’t be watching me, you’ll be too busy-”

“Doing calculus problems!” she yelled over him. “You’re so right,  _ Benjy.” _ She flipped him off and then closed the door behind her. 

“You guys are close,” Crier noted. She didn’t have any friends that treated her like Ayla and Benjy treated each other. 

Ayla smiled, almost wistfully, and it made Crier’s stomach feel weird. “Yeah, he’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“That’s nice,” Crier said, watching Ayla drag a stool from behind the desk. “I don’t have any childhood friends.”

Ayla shrugged and sat down at the desk. “A lot of people don’t. It’s not a bad thing.” She gestured to the stool. “You can sit down if you want. I was going to go get you a decent chair from upstairs, but then I had to make a delivery.”

Crier’s heart did a funny flip at the idea of Ayla thinking of her. Even if it was just about grabbing a chair.

“It’s alright,” Crier said, and then she attempted to fit her six foot tall self onto the little stool.

A laugh bubbled out of Ayla and Crier snapped her gaze up, watching Ayla laugh in glee. Her eyes scrunched shut and crinkled in the corners. Crier watched her, transfixed, as Ayla slowly returned to her normal self. She let out one last giggle and opened her eyes, meeting Crier’s gaze.

They stared at each other for a moment and then Ayla blurted, “Oh my fucking god, I never asked you for your  _ name.”  _

This time, it was Crier’s turn to laugh. She covered her mouth, giggling into her hands.

“I’m so sorry!” the girl floundered. “I don’t know why I never asked!” 

“It’s okay,” Crier said, and then smirked and added,  _ “Ayla.” _

Ayla’s mouth fell open. “What? How did you… Benjy?” she guessed, snapping her fingers. 

Crier nodded. 

Ayla groaned. “I cant believe I didn’t ask!”

“It’s fine, I didn’t tell you mine either.” 

“What is your name? Wait!” she said before Crier could open her mouth. “Let me guess.”

Crier snorted. “Trust me, you won’t guess my name.”

“Let me try! Tell me what it starts with.”

“C.”

Ayla pursed her lips. “Cindy?” Crier shook her head. “Christine? Cecelia? Caroline?  _ Claire?”  _

With each guess, Crier shook her head. “It’s Crier,” she said, putting Ayla out of her misery. 

“Huh.” Ayla slumped in her chair. “Yeah, I never would have guessed that.” She looked Crier up and down and Crier felt her face flush. “Crier,” she said, like she was tasting it, like she was rolling the name around in her mouth. “I like that.” 

Crier nodded stiffly. The way Ayla said her name made Crier’s face hot. 

“Thanks. I like your name, too.”

Ayla snorted out a laugh. “Sure, sure, come on let’s get started,” she said.

Crier wanted to tell her that she was serious. That Ayla’s name was the prettiest thing she’d ever heard, but that didn’t seem like a normal thing to tell someone you’d only known for a day. 

“Are you sure about this?” Crier said instead, picking her backpack up from the floor and setting it in her lap. “I don’t want to impose.”

Ayla waved her hand. “It’s fine, really. Half the time I’m just in here trying to look busy. I might have to serve customers every so often, though, if that’s okay?”

“Of course!” 

“Cool.” 

Crier wanted to ask her more questions. Why was she being so kind? What kind of impression had Crier made? What did Ayla  _ see _ in her? 

Instead, she pulled out a new notebook and her calculus textbook. Crier watched Ayla, watched her thick eyebrows furrow and her teeth bite into her bottom lip, and then she dragged her eyes down to the opened textbook when Ayla asked, “Alright, what are you stuck on?” 

❀

“You’re late today,” Crier’s father noted when she passed by his office later that evening.

He was sitting at his desk, his eyes sharp as he watched her lean against the doorframe. He had papers in his hand and his assistant was sitting in the chair across from him, typing away on a laptop. 

“I was studying in the library,” she lied.

Though she knew her father wouldn’t be mad that she was studying with a new friend, she didn’t  _ want _ to tell him. Ayla and Benjy and the flower shop felt like her little secret. Like an oasis when she’d been stranded in a desert or a shoreline when she’d been out at sea for weeks. She told her father almost everything but this,  _ this _ was hers and she didn’t want to share it with anyone. She’d never had friends who treated her like a normal person before and she wanted to keep that.

Hesod nodded and looked back down at his papers. “That’s good. The kitchen should have dinner prepared soon,” he added.

Crier watched him work, his eyes running back and forth across the paper as his assistant frantically typed beside him. The room was silent besides the clacking of the laptop keys. Her mind wandered to the flower shop, where Ayla and Benjy laughed while they worked. Her father was a well known governor while Ayla and Benjy worked at a flower shop, and yet Crier wondered why they seemed more content with their lives than most people in her father’s line of work that she’d met. 

Did her father regret becoming governor? Was her father happy with this life?

“Crier?” 

“Hm?” she said, jolting out of her trance.

“Is everything alright?” Hesod asked, frowning.

She hadn’t noticed him stop reading nor had she noticed the assistant stop typing. They were both watching her. 

She plastered on a smile. “Yes, everything’s fine. I’m just tired.” 

Hesod watched her for a moment, and then nodded. “You should eat, and then go to bed.”

“Yes, I’ll do that.” She headed for her room and then stopped. “I’ll see you tomorrow, father?”

Hesod looked up from his papers. “Hm? Oh, no, I have a meeting. I’ll see you the day after though.” 

“Oh,” Crier said, trying not to let her disappointment show. “Alright. See you later then.”

“Goodbye, Crier.” 

Crier hesitated, wondering if her father might put aside his work for a moment and ask her about her day, but he never did. She tapped the door frame lightly and walked out. She headed down the long hallway until she reached her room at the end. She opened her door and tossed her backpack onto the floor and flopped down onto her bed. 

Her room was large and she had a large bed in the middle of the room and two tall glass doors that led out onto a balcony that overlooked the gardens. 

It was a beautiful room, with blue walls and wooden furniture, but it was lonely. The whole house was.

Crier rolled over onto her side and her eye caught on the pile of canvases she kept on the other side of the room. She stood up and walked over, picking up one that was about the size of her torso. 

She pulled out her paints and got to work. 

❀

It took her well into the night to finish, but when she finally did, pulling away to look at it, she found she was looking at herself, in a desert, her body surrounded by flowers.

Her own little oasis. 

❀

Ayla poked Crier’s arm with her pencil, and Crier looked up, frowning. 

“What? Am I solving it wrong?”

“No,” Ayla said. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh, okay.” Crier put her pencil down. “What is it?”

“Benjy and I have movie nights every Friday. Do you want to come to the one tomorrow?”

Crier had been going to the flower shop every Tuesday and Thursday for a month now, and she felt confident in saying that Ayla and Benjy were her friends, but was that too soon to hang out outside of their study hours? Did Ayla really want to invite Crier, or was she just being polite? 

“Is that okay? I wouldn’t be intruding?”

Ayla shook her head. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t want you to come.”

“Okay,” Crier smiled. “I’ll be there.”

“Seven on the dot. Don’t be late,” she said, wagging her finger at Crier.

“Hey, Ayla,” Benjy said, poking his head into the room. “Someone’s here asking about a bouquet order. They’re asking for you specifically.” He ducked back into the main shop and Ayla stood up.

“Sorry, I’ll have to go handle this.”

Crier stood up too, putting her things away in her bag. “It’s fine, I have class in thirty minutes anyway.” 

They walked back into the main shop together, and Ayla waved her goodbye.

“See you tomorrow night!”

Crier waved back. “Bye!”

She shouldered her backpack and walked down the street, back to campus. She passed by the dorms and the bookstore and the library, only stopping once she reached the benches outside of her calculus class.

She was about to sit down and study some more when someone called her name. She closed her eyes and willed the person away but their footsteps only came closer. 

“Hello, Crier. I haven’t seen you for awhile,” the person said. 

Crier turned around and smiled tightly. “Hi, Kinok.”

He smiled back and sat down at the table. He waited until Crier sat down to speak. “I haven’t seen you in the library lately.” 

Crier hummed, taking out her textbook and staring down at it, not wanting to give Kinok attention. “I’ve been studying with friends.” 

“Oh! Do I know them?” he asked, leaning in. 

_ Unlikely, _ Crier thought. “No, I don’t think so,” she said instead.

“What are their names?”

“Ayla and Benjy.”

Kinok didn’t say anything for a moment, obviously trying to place their names. “Are their parents friends of your father?” 

Crier shook her head. 

“Are they in any of your classes?”

Again, Crier shook her head.

“Huh,” Kinok said, crossing his arms. “You’re right, I don’t believe I know them.”

Crier just hummed again, hoping he’d  _ finally _ get the hint. 

“So, what are you doing tomorrow night?” he asked instead and Crier held herself back from bashing her head in with her textbook. 

“I have plans,” she replied tersely, still not looking up.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Well, another time, perhaps?” He waited for Crier to respond, but when she didn’t he stood up. “Bye then.”

“Bye,” Crier said, still looking down at her textbook. 

She waited until he was around the corner to groan into her hands. Why could he never get a hint? She knew that he knew that _ she knew _ that he was only getting close to her because of who her father was and yet he  _ still _ tried. 

Throughout class, all she could think of was Kinok and his smug smile. She imagined whacking him in the face with her backpack. 

When she arrived at her house later that evening, she collapsed onto her bed, wishing for the next day to come faster. She wanted to be with Ayla in her home above the shop, watching movies and laughing in a place that was so loved you could feel it seeping from the walls.

She fell asleep and dreamed of a girl made of flowers.

❀

The footsteps came closer until the door swung open and Ayla stood there, grinning. She was wearing a t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Her short hair was in a low ponytail and Crier thought she looked cute.

“Hey, come on in,” Ayla said and opened the door wider. 

Crier stepped into the store and Ayla locked the front door behind her. She beckoned for Crier to follow and headed for the stairs. 

“Benjy and I are stuck between two movies so you can be the decider,” Ayla talked as they walked up.

“Okay,” Crier smiled even though Ayla’s back was to her. She liked how easily they had included her in their little duo. She’d never had friends who treated her as normally as Ayla and Benjy did. “Which movies?”

The stairs led to a room split into a living room and a kitchen, the kitchen she’d seen Benjy in over a month ago when she’d gone up to change her clothes. The bathroom was to the right of the stairs and there was a small hallway by the living room that looked like it led to two other rooms.

It was a lot smaller than her own house, but it was perfect to Crier. 

“Well, I really want to watch Scooby Doo Zombie Island, but Benjy wants to watch the live action Scooby Doo movie because-”

“It’s the best Scooby Doo movie there is,” Benjy cut in as he came out of one of the bedrooms and grabbed a chip from a bowl on the kitchen table. He pointed a finger at Crier and ate the chip. “And I’m right,” he said around his food. 

Though Crier was definitely closer with Ayla, Benjy never hesitated to include Crier in their jokes. Whenever Ayla had to help a customer, Benjy always came into the backroom to hang out with Crier until Ayla came back. She was an only child but hanging out with Benjy gave her a look into what it would’ve been like to have a brother. 

Ayla shook her head and grabbed a bowl of popcorn and the bowl of chips off the table. “There are drinks in the fridge,” she said, walking over to the living room. “Help yourself.” 

Benjy opened the fridge and pulled out a can of soda. He looked up at Crier, his head still in the fridge. “Like Sprite? Or would you prefer Coke?” 

“Sprite, please,” she responded and took the can from his hand. She opened it and startled when Benjy leaned closer to her.

“Hey,” he whispered, his face next to Crier’s but his eyes on Ayla. “I’ll let you sit next to Ayla.” 

“Um…” Crier looked sideways at him and put the soda up to her mouth. “Thanks?”

He winked. “No problem.” 

Crier smiled. Benjy was a really caring person. He must have known Crier felt slightly more comfortable with Ayla than with Benjy just because they’d hung out more than Crier had with him. 

She followed him into the living room and sat down on the right side of the couch while Benjy said on the other side, leaving room for Ayla in the middle. Crier watched Ayla where she sat on the ground in front of the TV, scrolling through Netflix. She turned around and caught Crier’s eye. 

“So? Did you decide?”

“Um…” Crier hesitated. She’d actually seen both movies before. Growing up, she hadn’t had a lot of friends and she often watched TV while she doodled or painted. Her favorite of the two was the live action movie, but watching Ayla’s eyes on her made her say, “The zombie one.” 

“Yes!” Ayla exclaimed, pumping her first in the air. 

Benjy groaned and slumped down in his seat. “Yeah,” he mumbled to himself. “I should’ve seen that coming.” 

Ayla threw the remote at him and he easily caught it. “Stop being a big baby. It’s good to know Crier has taste.” 

Benjy laughed and turned to Crier on the couch, his eyes gleaming. “Yeah, Crier! What other tastes do you-“

He was cut off when Ayla threw a pillow right at his head. He smacked the side of his face on the back of the couch and slid down onto the ground, cupping his face.

“You damaged the goods,” he groaned. 

Ayla stuck out her tongue at him even though he wasn’t looking. “I can’t damage something that was already ruined.” 

_ “Ayla!”  _

Cried laughed at their exchange, her cheeks hurting from grinning so much.

Ayla flopped down next to her on the couch, loudly whispering, “He’s such a drama queen.”

“Ha ha, very funny, just play the damn movie,” Benjy grumbled and buried himself under a thick blanket, staying on the ground and leaning his back against the couch. 

Ayla got up and grabbed another blanket from a basket by the TV, offering one end to Crier. “We can share,” she said and Crier took the blanket.

Ayla started the movie and within ten minutes, Crier realized she wasn’t paying attention at all. For some reason, her eyes kept drifting over to Ayla’s face. The light from the TV made her eyes glow and made her lips look full. Crier pulled the blanket up, yanking her hand back when she realized she’d accidentally touched Ayla’s thigh. 

“Sorry,” she hissed, like her hand had been burned.

Ayla glanced at her and then back at the TV. She shoveled more popcorn into her mouth. “‘S okay,” she mumbled.

Crier’s felt her face burn and she stared at the TV. She prayed the light from the TV wasn’t enough for Ayla or Benjy to notice.

Benjy let out a loud yawn, startling both Crier and Ayla. He stood up and stretched, yawning a second time. “Well, I’m going to go to bed.”

“What?” Ayla asked and then gestured to the TV. “We’re only twenty minutes into the movie.”

Benjy shrugged. “Long day tomorrow. I have to… help a friend clean his dorm room.”

“Who?”

“Finn!” 

“You still talk to Finn?”

“Yeah, and this conversation has gone on too long. Goodnight!” Benjy practically ran out the room, leaving Ayla and Crier alone to stare after him. He stuck his head around the corner and added, “You can keep watching the movie! I don’t mind, I’ve seen it before!” and then he was gone again. 

Crier snorted out a quiet laugh. She turned to Ayla and asked, “Is he always like that?”

Ayla looked away from the hallway Benjy had disappeared into. She turned her body to face the TV. 

“I’ve been friends with Benjy since I can remember and he’s always surprising me,” she said as an answer. 

Crier hummed in acknowledgment. “People always seem to surprise you, even if you think you know them.”

Ayla looked away from the TV at her words. Her eyes roamed Crier’s face as if she was searching for something and Crier let her own eyes wander downward to Ayla’s lips. There was a stillness in the air and Crier looked up to find Ayla watching her. Slowly, so, so slowly, Ayla leaned in and Crier felt her eyelids droop as she got lost in the darkness of Ayla’s eyes when her phone let out a noise in her pocket, causing them both to jump back. 

Ayal scrambled to the other side of the couch while Crier leaned back and pulled out her phone, clearing her throat. She thought she would have a text from her father, but instead she had a notification saying her Calc test had been graded. Eager, Crier opened up her phone to check her grade and looked up, grinning, only to find Ayla already watching her.

At Crier’s smile, Ayla smiled back. 

“What is it?” she asked, pausing the movie, which Crier found funny considering she hadn’t been watching it to begin with.

“My math test was graded!” she exclaimed. 

Ayla turned her body to face Crier. “What did you get?”

“An eighty-seven!” Crier grinned. “That’s the best grade I’ve gotten in this class so far!”

Crier had never been a very touchy person. She was sure it had something to do with growing up in a big house with a father who was rarely home, but in that moment, she found herself pulling Ayla forward and wrapping her in her arms. 

“Ayla, I got this grade because of you!” she said against the side of Ayla’s head, her hair tickling Crier’s nose. “Oh my god, I’m so happy I could kiss you right now!” she laughed. 

Ayla stiffened against Crier, and the words Crier had said came crashing back to her. She yanked away and let out an awkward laugh.

“I’m kidding. I wouldn’t kiss you,” she said, avoiding Ayla’s eyes.

Ayla cleared her throat, her face red. “No, no, I get it. Figure of speech and all that. Um, I’m glad though,” she said, smiling at Crier, her eyes so bright Crier felt blinded for a moment. “I’m glad you did well on your test.”

“Thanks.” There was an awkward air and Crier stood up. “I should head home. I have a lot of homework to do tomorrow” 

“Oh,” Ayla said, and Crier thought she saw disappointment on her face. “Yeah, same, I have a lot to do for Econ.” She stood up and gestured to the stairs. “Let me walk you out.”

They didn’t speak as Crier followed Ayla down the stairs and into the flower shop. Ayla didn’t bother switching on a light, using the light from the streetlamps outside to guide her through the store. She unlocked the front door and held it open for Crier. She walked out and turned around for- for what? She felt like she was waiting for something, but she didn’t know what. Did she want Ayla to do something? To say something?

She didn’t know. She felt like she didn’t know anything.

“Thank you,” she settled on. “For inviting me. And for the food. And for helping me study.” And for treating me like a person. “I feel like I owe you.”

A small smile danced on Ayla’s lips. “Can I keep that IOU until I want to use it?”

Crier laughed, the tension between them fading. “Sure. Use it whenever you want.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Ayla grinned, her teeth dazzling in the darkness of the store. “Goodnight, Crier.”

“Goodnight, Ayla,” she whispered, afraid to wake the rest of the world.

She closed the door, leaving Crier standing on the empty sidewalk. Crier looked up at the faint stars and thought of Ayla’s eyes that were so dark yet so bright they resembled the night sky.

Sighing, Crier dropped her head and thought,  _ What am I doing? _

❀

The next morning, Crier woke to voices coming from her father’s office. She got ready quickly, throwing on jeans and a sweater and putting her hair up into a bun. She quietly walked down the hall to her father’s office, trying to figure out who he was talking to. The door was cracked open, and she peered in. 

At first, she only saw her father at his desk. Then someone went and sat down in the chair in front of his desk, and Crier felt anger burst through her. She opened the door and leaned against the doorframe. 

“Hello, Kinok,” she said, her voice like ice. “What brings you here?”

“Crier!” her father smiled, beckoning her over. “Come, sit down, we were just talking about you.”

Crier raised an eyebrow and walked over, flopping down into the unoccupied chair.

“You were?” she said, her eyes cutting over to Kinok.

He was smiling at her and it appeared kind, but Crier had learned not to trust any of his smiles. 

“Kinok and I were talking about the party to celebrate my reelection,” Hesod explained, smiling as he glanced between Crier and Kinok. “As you know, it’s going to be held in our ballroom and you’re allowed to bring a plus one.” 

“Alright,” Crier said, nodding. She already knew that. Her father had been preparing for it for months, and he’d kept badgering Crier to find a dress for it. She didn’t understand why she needed to buy a new dress when she already had thirty hanging up in her closet right now. Crier looked at Kinok. “What do you have to do with this?”

_ “Crier,” _ Hesod snapped. “Don’t be rude.” 

Crier shrinked back. She ducked her head. “I apologize.”

Kinok waved his hand, as if clearing the air. “It’s fine, I’d be confused if I were you.” He nodded at Hesod. “But I was talking to your father about the party because…” He moved to the edge of his seat and took Crier’s hands in his own. They felt cold. “I thought you and I could go together.”

Crier snatched her hands back. “What?” She looked at her father. “Why were you talking about this?” 

“I assumed you two would go together,” he answered, putting his hands together on the desk. “The son of a mayor and the daughter of a governor would look good together.”

Crier watched Kinok practically  _ glow  _ under the praise. The idea of having to go to her father’s celebration with Kinok made her stomach turn to ice.

Without thinking, Crier blurted out, “I’ve already asked someone to accompany me.”

Kinok’s face turned shocked and then darkened. Her father merely frowned, confused. 

“Who?” he asked. 

Crier’s thoughts froze. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She didn’t have anyone she was close with… Except- 

“Ayla,” Crier said. “You don’t know her. She’s a friend, from RU. I’ve been studying with her, actually.”

“But…” Hesod looked between Kinok and Crier, as if he was trying to piece something together. “She’s a girl.”

“Yes,” Crier said slowly, wondering why that was important. “She is.”

Hesod looked between them again and cleared his throat. “Right, well, I’m happy I’ll get to meet her. It’s been awhile since I’ve met any new friends of yours.”

Crier smiled, glad she’d gotten out of having to attend the party with Kinok. Her father stood up and put his arm on Crier’s shoulder.

“She’s been to a celebration like this before, hasn’t she?”

Crier thought of Ayla, with her little house and her dirt streaked cheeks. “No, I don’t think so.” 

Crier saw Hesod’s eye twitch. 

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “Well, that’s fine. New faces are always good to see. Kinok,” Hesod nodded to him. “I’ll walk you out.”

Kinok stood up and before he followed Hesod out the door, he leaned down until his mouth was by Crier’s ear. “I don’t know who this Ayla is,” Kinok said under his breath. “But for your sake, I hope she’s worth it.”

And then he closed the door behind him, leaving Crier alone in the room, wondering what she had gotten herself into. 

❀

The following Tuesday, Crier noticed something had shifted. If she hadn’t been paying attention, she might have missed it, but something was different between her and Ayla. They sat across from each other, their shoes touching under the desk. Ayla was reading from her political science textbook while Crier worked on her history essay. Occasionally, Ayla bumped her foot against Crier’s and Crier smiled to herself. 

The silence between them was comforting. 

Stupidly, Crier broke it. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Ayla looked up from her book. “Sure.” She shoved the textbook aside and leaned back in her chair. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing next Saturday, at like five ‘o clock?”

Ayla’s face slowly turned pink. She ducked her head. “Um, nothing. I can ask Benjy to watch the store for me.” She looked up. “Why?”

“My father’s hosting a party at our house and I was wondering if you’d be my plus one,” Crier said, pretending to do something on her laptop. Looking at Ayla hurt too much. It made something in her chest feel funny. 

“I’d love to go!” Ayla said. “It’s not a birthday party is it? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“No, it’s to celebrate my father’s reelection,” Crier explained.

“Wait… Reelection?” Ayla frowned. She was looking at Crier like she was seeing her for the first time. Slowly, almost cautiously, Ayla asked, “Who’s your dad?”

“Hesod. The governor.” 

At her father’s name, Ayla’s face paled and she stood up. “I think you should go.”

Crier startled. “What?” 

“You should leave.” 

Crier’s heart felt like it had been split in two. “What? Why? What did I do?”

Ayla looked away, like it hurt her to look at Crier. Maybe it did. 

“Please,” she pleaded. “Just leave.”

Crier stood up and reached for her hand. “Ayla-”

“Get out!” Ayla yelled, turning on Crier. 

Crier shrunk back and stared at Ayla, tears collecting in her eyes. Crier let one tear slip down her cheek and she watched Ayla’s eyes track the movement before she turned, grabbing her things and leaving the room, ignoring Benjy calling out to her. 

Crier left the store and kept walking, the sun warming her. She wiped her tears away before they could fall. She ended up at a small park and sat on the slide, wondering what she’d done that was so awful that Ayla didn’t want to even look at her anymore. She’d shut down when Crier had mentioned her father, but  _ why? _ Crier had had friends leave her because of her father before. Some people didn’t like having a friend whose life was so vastly different from their own while some people simply just didn’t like her father. But no one had ever reacted as badly as Ayla had. 

And watching Ayla’s eyes turn on her with something akin to hatred  _ hurt. _ It hurt so much more than any other friend leaving had. 

How had Ayla wiggled her way into Crier’s heart? Why did it matter so much? Why did Crier even  _ care?  _

And then, suddenly, Crier had a vivid memory from a week ago of Ayla planting new flowers. She’d been explaining what the flowers symbolized, something about joy and good fortune, when she’d turned to Crier and found her already watching her. Ayla had given her a warm smile, her dimples showing and her eyes crinkling in the corners. In that moment, with the sun coming through the windows, making Ayla practically glow, Crier had wanted to reach over and wipe the dirt from her cheek, cup her face in her hands and-

On the park slide, as the sun crept closer to the horizon, Crier’s breath caught in her throat and she thought,  _ Oh. _

  
  
  
  
  


_ Oh, no.  _


	2. Ayla

The bell above the door chimed, and Ayla’s head snapped up. She hid her disappointment as a middle aged woman walked in, holding her child’s hand. Ayla smiled tightly at her, and the woman smiled back before looking around at the potted flowers. 

Ayla’s smile dropped and she looked down at her laptop that she had on the counter. Why was she even watching the door? She’d driven Crier away so why was she mad that she obviously wasn’t showing up? Ayla wanted to snap her laptop in half. _She_ was the one who should be hurt, not Crier. The whole time Ayla had been slowly falling for Crier, she hadn’t known her father was Hesod. 

Ayla felt like an idiot. 

“I don’t know why you keep watching the door,” Benjy said from behind her.

Ayla jumped and spun around. “What?” 

Benjy pushed past her to set a box of new plant pots on the ground. He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Crier. She’s not coming back. You made sure of that.”

“I know that,” Ayla snapped. “I don’t want her to come back.”

Benjy gave her a look. “Sure, sure. I definitely haven’t been watching you stare at the front door for the past hour.” 

Ayla blushed and glared at him. “I’m just worried we aren’t getting enough customers.”

Benjy shook his head and laughed. “It’s good to know you’re still an awful liar.”

“I’m a great liar! You just know me too well.”

Benjy smiled softly at her. “That I do.” He ruffled her hair as he walked past to ask the woman if she needed help. 

Ayla watched as the woman shook her head, and Benjy said something in reply before walking back to the counter. He leaned against it, mimicking Ayla, and gently nudged her hip with his.

“Why did you push her away?” he asked quietly, his expression soft and open.

Shrugging, Ayla bent down and picked up one of the new pots. She looked around the store, trying to figure out where the new plants could go in the already crowded store. Maybe she could turn them into hanging pot plants? She looked around, trying to find a spot, when, out of nowhere, Benjy said, “You found out Hesod is her dad, didn’t you?”

The pot in Ayla’s hand fell to the floor, shattering the silence of the store. Ayla barely noticed the customer’s confused look as she spun around and quietly ground out a harsh, _“What?”_

Benjy spared a glance at the mother and her child before grabbing Ayla’s arm and pulling her into the backroom, closing the door behind them. 

“You _knew_ this _whole time?_ Why didn’t you _tell me?”_ Ayla seethed, walking back and forth on the carpet, her rage simmering low in her gut.

“Because, I knew you would act like this!” Benjy said, throwing his hands up. “Crier isn’t her father, Ayla. I wanted you to get to know her before you found out who her family was.”

She turned to Benjy. “So you lied to me.”

Benjy crossed his arms. “No. I withheld the truth so you wouldn’t act like a complete dick to Crier. Kind of like how you’re acting _right now.”_

“I have every right to be angry!” Ayla growled. Benjy of all people should understand her feelings toward Hesod. Benjy was _there_ when it happened. 

“You do have a right to be angry, Ayla, but not at Crier.” 

“But her dad’s-”

“Yeah, her dad is Hesod, but Crier’s just Crier.” Benjy shook his head and ran a hand over his face. “You _know_ her. Does she really seem like that kind of person to you?”

And, well- 

“No,” Ayla said quietly in defeat and slumped down onto the couch. 

No, she didn’t. Crier was the kindest person that Ayla had ever met. It didn’t make sense that someone like Hesod could have a daughter like Crier. 

Benjy’s cat blinked at her from its spot on the couch. Ayla stared back. 

“So what are you going to do now?” Benjy said, flopping down next to her. He gave his cat a rub under her chin. 

“What can I do? I pushed her away and now she probably hates me. And I don’t even know if I want to make up with her. Thinking of her just makes me think of Hesod.”

Benjy leaned forward until he was in Ayla’s line of sight. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But I know Crier was special to you. _Is_ special to you. I think you should at least give her a chance.”

Ayla nodded but didn’t respond. She knew Benjy was right. 

Benjy lightly squeezed her knee and then stood up. “Well, we should go see if that customer needs help.”

“Yeah,” Ayla agreed, standing up. “We shouldn’t have left like that.”

“It’s fine, it was an emergency.”

Ayla rolled her eyes. “Sure it was.”

“It was, Ayla,” he said seriously. “I care about you, and if you’re hurting I want you to be able to talk to me.” 

It felt like there was a lump in her throat and all she could do was nod at his words. 

He paused at the door and added, “Oh, you’re welcome, by the way,” his serious demeanor suddenly gone. 

Ayla frowned at him. “For what?”

“For leaving you and Crier alone on Friday.”

 _“That’s_ why you left?”

“Yeah because I’m such a good friend. Did anything happen?”

“No. And nothing _will_ happen.”

“Ayla-”

“No, I’m serious,” she argued. “Maybe we can be friends, fine, but I can’t- I can’t date Hesod’s _daughter.”_

Benjy sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t deal with you right now. Let’s just get back to work.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Benjy? Benjy!” 

❀

As the week passed by, Ayla watched Saturday creep closer. At night, when she let herself think of Crier, she wondered if she was going to the party with Kinok. She pictured Kinok dancing with Crier while everyone watched them. Crier, smiling up at him like she used to smile at Ayla. The idea made her gut flare with jealousy. A dazzling couple that Ayla wanted to tear apart. 

She wanted to see Crier again. She missed her. Every time she tried to study, she wished for Crier to be sitting across from her, reading her textbook and biting her lip in concentration. She wanted to pretend like she’d accidentally knocked her foot against Crier’s when really she just wanted an excuse to be closer. Whenever she was explaining the meaning of a flower to a customer, she looked at the counter, as if Crier would be there, listening along. 

Ayla groaned and flopped down onto her side, burying her face in her pillow. She grabbed her phone and scrolled through her old text messages with Crier. She could text her and apologize, but that felt wrong. If she ever wanted to apologize she’d have to do it in person. Tomorrow, Crier would be going to her father’s party, either alone or with Kinok, all because of Ayla. 

Both options made Ayla feel terrible and there was nothing she could do about it.

“Hey,” Benjy called from the living room. He came into her room and stood in the doorway. “I know it’s your day off, but we got someone calling in for a delivery,” he said. “And I need to watch the store.” 

Ayla buried herself deeper under her bed covers. “Nope. I don’t want to. Plus it’s raining.”

“Come on, get up. Up, up, up!” Benjy grabbed Ayla’s legs and dragged her out, causing her to fall on the floor. 

“Benjy!” Ayla swatted his leg. “You ass!” 

He danced away from her. “Stop wallowing. Going outside will make you feel better.”

“I need to do homework!” she yelled, gesturing to her textbook and open laptop on her bed. “This is my only day off.”

“No, what you need to do is get out of this funk. Go, see the world, see some pretty people, fall in love.” 

Ayla glared up at him. “All I’m doing is delivering flowers. More than half the time it’s to someone in a relationship.” 

“Keep an open mind! Who knows what could happen.” 

“Ugh,” Ayla groaned and stood up, realizing Benjy was not going to let her get out of this. She went to her closet and pulled out a plain shirt and jeans, throwing her apron on over it.

Benjy spoke up as she grabbed her phone, checking to see if it was charged. “You should change,” he said. “Wear something nice.”

“What?” Ayla looked down at her outfit. “These are my work clothes. I’m working.”

“I know, I know but- Just trust me, okay?”

“Okay…” she said slowly. She went back to her closet and pulled out a light blue sweater. “Better?”

“Lose the apron.”

“You’re being so weird.”

“Just trust me!” 

Ayla rolled her eyes but did what she was told. 

After she’d changed, she followed Benjy down into the shop. Benjy walked over to the rose plants and handed Ayla a single rose. 

Ayla looked down at the rose and back up at Benjy. “Wait, they asked for _one_ rose?” 

“Um, yes.” 

“Right.” Ayla felt like Benjy wasn’t telling her something, but if she asked it was unlikely that he’d be honest. She trusted him with her life and knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. That didn’t make her less confused, though.

Benjy gave her the address and then was shoving her out the door. 

“Bye! Have fun!” he yelled and then threw an umbrella at her. 

Ayla caught it and glared at him, flipping him off before heading around the back of the building to get her car, water bouncing off the umbrella. Technically, it was also Benjy’s car, as they shared it. Ayla was reminded of that when she wrinkled her nose at the takeout bag Benjy had left in the passenger’s seat the last time he’d used it. Ayla put the address Benjy had given her into her phone and pulled out of the driveway. 

When she got closer to the address, she groaned at what was waiting for her. The community was gated. This was supposed to be her day to _relax._ She was going to kill Benjy. 

She pulled up to where the security guard sat in the little building. He leaned out the window to look at her.

“Who are you here for?” he asked.

“Um, I’m here for a delivery.” Ayla read off the address for him. 

The security guard pulled away and read something at his desk. He looked back up and nodded. “Go on in.” 

“Thank you,” Ayla said and then drove through the now open gates. Ayla didn’t understand the idea of gated communities. If someone wanted to rob the place they could just hop the gate. Maybe if she was rich she would understand their appeal. Too bad she’d never know. 

She drove through the streets until she reached the very last house at the end of a long road. It was at the top of a hill and it was _huge._ Ayla didn’t even know if it was technically a house because it looked like a mansion. It had a long driveway and marble pillars on either side of the front door. There were two _\- two -_ lawns on either side of the porch and it was two stories high. 

Ayla couldn’t close her mouth. 

She parked the car in the driveway, praying she wouldn’t get fined just for breathing in the vicinity of the mansion, and got out. She opened her umbrella and walked up to the door, feeling awkward in her sweater and jeans, clutching a single rose in her other hand. At least Benjy had been right about changing clothes to look nicer, though she still wished she had her apron as proof that there was a reason she was standing in front of the house.

She rang the doorbell with the hand holding the rose and noticed that she couldn’t hear it echoing through the house like she used to hear whenever she rang Benjy’s foster parent’s doorbell when they were kids. She heard someone sliding a lock and she stood up straight, unsure what kind of person would be on the other side.

Then the door opened and Crier was standing in the entryway. 

She was dressed in a white t-shirt with blue overalls that were covered in an array of colorful paint splotches. Her hair was messy, and she had a streak of green paint on her nose.

She was beautiful.

“Ayla?” She said it so quietly Ayla wasn’t sure if she’d heard it over the rain or if she was just wishing to hear her name fall from Crier’s lips again.

They stared at each other and all Ayla could think was, _God, I missed her._

And then Ayla remembered where she was. At Hesod’s house. At Hesod’s _mansion,_ a place she didn’t belong, a place where a man who hated her lived. She took a step back, out from under the cover of the porch, and dropped the rose on the ground. The rain beat harshly against the umbrella. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” she said, turning away.

“Ayla, wait!” Crier yelled, running out of the house after her, her clothes getting wet from the rain. She reached for Ayla’s wrist, stopping her in the middle of the driveway. “I’ve been wondering what I did wrong this whole week,” she explained as her hair dripped rainwater down her face. She brushed the water out of her eyes. She squeezed under the umbrella, bending down until her face was close to Ayla’s. “Please, _please,_ if you’re going to leave and never speak to me again, please just tell me what I did to _push you away.”_

Ayla pulled her wrist out of Crier’s grasp. She looked down at the ground and noticed Crier wasn’t wearing shoes. Her socks were soaked. 

“It wasn’t you.”

“Then _what?”_ Crier asked desperately. “Please, Ayla, tell me. Don’t push me away again.”

The rain started coming down harder, the rain bouncing off the umbrella, making it harder for them to hear each other.

Ayla raised her voice. “It wasn’t you, okay! It was because of Hesod!”

Crier frowned down at her and Ayla watched a droplet of water slip over her lips. 

“My father? You got mad and told me to leave because of my father?” Crier’s mouth turned down. Ayla had never seen her look so upset before. “I’ve had a lot of people stop being friends with me because of who my father is, but I thought you were different. I thought you were _better than that,_ Ayla.” She turned away, running a hand through her wet hair. “Why is it so hard to grasp that I am not my _father?”_

She looked so hurt and it made Ayla ache that she had done that to Crier.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Crier turned to her, frowning.

“I’m sorry!” she said louder, making sure Crier could hear her this time. “I know you’re not your father. You’re so good and kind and, and- I’m sorry, okay? I freaked and took it out on you. But, God, Crier this week has been awful. I kept watching the front door because I was waiting for you to walk in. And whenever it opened and it wasn’t you, I _swear_ my heart broke a little each time.” She dropped her voice, realizing she had been yelling over the rain. “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly. 

Crier looked at her, her eyes searching Ayla’s face. She had a crease between her eyebrows and Ayla wanted to smooth it away. “What did my father do to you?” she asked. The rain fell harder until the world was a blur around them. “It was something personal, wasn’t it?” 

Ayla nodded mutely.

Crier’s frown morphed into something sad. “What happened?”

“It’s…” Ayla sighed. “It’s a long story.” 

Crier held her arms out, her hands battered by the rain. “I’ve got time,” she said, repeating those words Ayla had told her all those weeks ago when she’d barreled into her store, soaking wet. 

She owed Crier this. She owed her an explanation. 

“Alright. I’ll tell you.” She looked Crier up and down, noticing how wet she was. It was like déjà vu looking at her shivering from the rain. The irony wasn’t lost on her. “But can we go inside? You look freezing.”

Crier looked down at herself, like she didn’t even remember running after Ayla without shoes on. “Oh, right.” She walked back to the house and Ayla followed her. 

Ayla spared a glance back at her car. She could leave if she wanted to. She could get in and drive away and forget Crier ever existed.

But Crier didn’t deserve that and Ayla didn’t want that either. 

Crier held the door open for her and Ayla’s mouth fell open at the sight of the house’s interior. She folded her umbrella as she let her eyes roam the room. It was massive, with three couches and five chairs situated around small tables. It was a living room, but it looked like it had never been lived in.

“Come on,” Crier said, walking farther into the mansion.

“The rose! Are- Do you need it?” she stuttered, realizing she’d dropped it in her haste to get away. It was probably destroyed at this point, laying on the floor and getting battered by the rain.

Crier stopped and frowned at her. “Benjy didn’t tell you? 

Ayla shook her head, confused. 

“I didn’t actually order any flowers. He texted me and said you wanted to apologize so I texted him my address,” Crier explained. “He said I might have to stop you from running off. Turns out he was right.” Her mouth quirked up. “He tricked you, didn’t he? That explains why you freaked out. I thought you knew this was my house.”

Ayla didn’t know what to say. It was so obvious, how did she not think of it before? Benjy knew Ayla had regretted what she did to Crier so he had taken it into his own hands to help her. She mentally reminded herself to buy Benjy a milkshake on the way home.

Crier took Ayla’s silence for an answer and she turned around, heading down a hallway. Ayla followed in a daze as the rooms around her seemed to only grow in size. How was she allowed in a place like this? She was dragging water and mud through the house. Shouldn’t she have taken her shoes off at the door? Would she be in trouble for that? Crier was doing the same with her waterlogged socks, but this was her home, not Ayla’s. Never Ayla’s.

She followed Crier through a few more rooms and then up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. Finally, at the end of the hall, Crier opened a door and Ayla entered Crier’s bedroom, kicking off her shoes. 

It was huge, easily the size of the entire upper floor of the flower shop. On the right side, there were two large glass doors that led out to a balcony, rain pelting the glass. Crier’s bed was situated against the light blue wall opposite the door. It was a queen bed, with rumpled light blue sheets to match the walls and a headboard and bed posts. It was a lot different than Ayla’s bed. Hers was simply a mattress on her bedroom floor and she used the wall behind it as a headboard for her old pillows. As Ayla took in the rest of the room, she realized she had expected it to look like the rest of the house. Neat and plain, but this room was anything but that. The walls contained canvases with all kinds of different paintings. There were mountains, people, animals, galaxies, fields, buildings, everything. They were all beautiful. The other side of the bedroom looked like it once held two couches, but they’d been shoved up against the far wall, and in their place was a large plastic sheet covering the carpet and canvases of all sizes scattered around. Some were finished, some were half done, and some were blank. 

It was the only place in the house that wasn’t organized. 

Ayla loved it. 

As Crier ducked into the bathroom to change out of her wet clothes, Ayla stepped farther into the room, walking over to, what she assumed was, Crier’s painting area. She stopped in front of the only canvas that was on an easel. It was finished, unlike the other canvases on the plastic covered floor by her feet. It was a portrait of a girl in a desert, surrounded by flowers. But it wasn’t any girl; it was Crier. The flowers seemed to embrace her as they came out of the edge of the canvas and wrapped themselves around Crier’s face. Ayla recognized the flowers. They were the ones she always kept on display outside of the shop. 

The bathroom door opened and Ayla felt Crier’s eyes on her.

She turned to her. “This is you.”

Crier was standing in the bathroom doorway in a grey sweater and black sweatpants, her wet hair neatly brushed and dripping water down her shoulders and back. She blinked. “Yes. It is.”

Ayla turned back to the canvas. “These are flowers from my shop.”

“Yes,” Crier said, walking over and sitting down on her bed. “They are.”

Ayla looked at her. “Why?”

Crier looked at Ayla with such _openness_ it made Ayla’s knees weak. “Your shop - your house - has felt more like home to me than this house ever has.” 

That made Ayla pause. Crier saw the love in her house. Without knowing its history, she had just known it was a place built from love, a love that this place proved Crier had never had. All she had wanted was a friend, a place to be herself, and Ayla had taken that away from her for something she didn’t do.

Ayla walked over and sat down next to Crier on the bed. She brushed her hand over the bed sheets, feeling the softness under her fingers. “My parents died when I was eight.”

She heard Crier suck in a quiet, shocked, breath. “Ayla, you don’t have to-”

“It’s alright. I want to explain.” Crier nodded silently and Ayla continued. “My parents owned the flower shop before me. It was their prized possession and I _loved_ living right above it. My twin brother, Storme, and I would come down every morning before school to help our parents water the plants. It doesn’t seem like it would be a fun thing for two little kids, but my parents would make it a game,” she said wistfully, remembering those early mornings when the sun was barely above the horizon. “My mom would see which one of us could water the most plants. Storme and I would rush about doing it. I know we never gave the plants enough water because I found out my parents used to water them again after we’d left for school. But it wasn’t about watering the flowers, it was just about us doing something together before we had to go out separate ways for the day.” Ayla glanced at Crier and found her smiling softly to herself. “But then one day, when Storme and I were playing upstairs with Benjy, a fire broke out. Turns out it was a gas leak or something. But we didn’t notice until it was too late. We were stuck upstairs while the fire was blazing in the backroom of the shop. I remember it creeped up through the floor and burned part of the kitchen ceiling as my brother, Benjy, and I sat screaming and crying in the living room.” Crier’s eyes flickered to Ayla’s face. She solemnly watched her as she spoke. “My parents bolted upstairs and carried Benjy and I out. Then they went back for Storme. While they were in there, the firefighters arrived and went in to get them. Only Storme came out. They claimed my parents had inhaled too much smoke,” Ayla said, her voice cracking. “They didn’t make it down the stairs.” 

“Oh. Oh, Ayla.” Crier shuffled closer, resting a hand on Ayla’s knee. “I’m- I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve to go through that. No one does.” 

“It’s… It’s alright.” She looked away, willing herself not to cry. “It’s been a long time. The pain’s still there, but it’s eased as time’s gone on.” 

Crier squeezed her knee gently.

“After.” Ayla cleared her throat. “After all that, Storme and I were adopted by Rowan, my mother’s friend. She didn’t want us to lose our home, so she bought it, rebuilt it, and took over the flower shop, promising Storme and I that we could have it when we got older. And then when I was eighteen, only two years ago, Rowan died. Storme had already moved away by this time, and Benjy and I were working in the shop with Rowan. So when she was gone, I took over. And then, a week after Rowan died, your father showed up.” Ayla fiddled with a loose thread on the bed sheet. “I was still fresh with grief and he waltzed in like he didn’t have a care in the world. Told me I needed to move out because the city was going to tear down my shop to put in a new coffee place. ‘A hip place for the college kids,’ your father’s words.” Ayla sighed deeply, controlling her anger. “Benjy had to physically hold me back, I was so _angry._ I got a few colorful words in, though. Told him to go fuck himself.”

Crier let out a strangled laugh, and Ayla shot her a smirk.

“I fought tooth and nail for that shop, for my _home._ I got to keep it in the end, obviously. But I’ll never forget what your father said to me the last time I saw him. ‘You were lucky,’ he’d said. ‘Most aren’t.’ I realized he’d done this to people before, and he’d won.”

Crier looked out the glass doors. She was still, and her face looked like it was carved from stone. “I remember once, back in high school, I’d had a friend who, after finding out who my father was, told me he was a terrible person. I went home that day and asked my father why someone would say that about him. He told me he does what he can for the people of this city, even if he has to do things some people might not like. And the way he explained it to me, _God,_ I believed him for a very, very long time.” Her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly that Ayla wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been staring. “And then I learned the people you love can lie. Even to you.” She looked at Ayla. “I don’t condone what he does, but I still love him. Even though I wish I didn’t.”

Ayla could understand that. Sometimes the person you loved turned out to be different than you’d originally thought and you’re left wondering if they’d tricked you or if you had tricked yourself because you just didn’t want to see the truth. 

Instead of replying, she reached over and placed her hand over Crier’s. It was warm. Smooth. Crier let her thread her fingers through Crier’s own and Ayla turned her hand over, running her thumb over the back of her hand. There was a small splatter of paint on one of her fingers. Gold, like dawn. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Crier said quietly. 

Ayla squeezed her hand. “Thank you for giving me a chance to explain.”

They sat there for a moment, their hands clasped when Crier broke the silence.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Guess he didn’t come up in conversation,” Ayla shrugged. “Unlike me, he wanted to get away from here. Said it held too many bad memories. Meanwhile, I stayed. I didn’t want to sell the shop, not after knowing how much it meant to my parents. Storme lives in Varn with his girlfriend, Junn, now.”

“Is he happy?” Crier asked.

That startled Ayla. Out of all the questions she could ask about Ayla’s twin, she wanted to know if he was _happy?_

“Yeah,” Ayla said, thinking back to the rare times she’d visited her brother. Storme with his nose scrunched up in laughter, Storme with his arms wrapped around Ayla, Storme with his hand in Junn’s. “I think he is.”

“That’s good.” Crier’s turned Ayla’s hand over. She traced the lines on her palms and Ayla shivered. “Are you happy?”

She thought of Benjy, with his dimples and curls and loud laugh, living just on the other side of her bedroom. She thought of Crier, with her shining eyes and warm hands and soft smile, coming into the store to keep her company. 

Just her and two people she deeply cared for, living in a flower shop that should have been pulled down years ago, lost to the past.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. 

“Yeah,” she answered honestly. “I am.”

Crier smiled and opened her mouth to speak when Ayla’s attention was caught by something outside. She let go of Crier’s hand and stood up, walking over to the glass doors leading out to the stone balcony. The rain had subsided and the clouds had parted, letting the sun peek through. And over the garden and woods behind Crier’s house, high in the sky, was the brightest rainbow Ayla had ever seen.

“Crier,” she breathed. “Look.”

Crier walked up next to her and gasped. She pulled open the door quickly and Ayla followed her out onto the balcony. They stood there, looking at the sky in awe. Then the sky suddenly opened up again while the sun was still shining on them and Crier _laughed._ A full, bright laugh and Ayla turned to watch her as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting the rain fall on her face. Her lips were curled up in that rare, soft smile. 

“Can I still come with you tomorrow night?” Ayla blurted.

Crier startled, opening her eyes and frowning at Ayla. “You want to come, even though you’ll see my father?”

“If you’re with me,” she said. “I’ll be okay.”

The sun shone down on Crier, the light surrounding her head like a crown. She looked like a storybook princess. Crier was blushing, ever so slightly. Ayla had rarely seen her blush before and she found it was beautiful. It wasn’t as bright as Ayla’s blushes usually were, it was more subtle, but if you looked at her cheeks, you could see the faint tint of red.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” She bit her lip and Ayla’s eyes were drawn to the movement. “I’d never want to force you to come.”

Of course Ayla knew that. Crier was a good person, even after what Ayla had originally believed. And Ayla really hated parties, especially if it would be filled with rich people who would never give Ayla the time of day, but the idea of Crier being alone and being forced to mingle and dance with Kinok left something heavy in her stomach.

“I’m positive. I want to come.”

Crier brightened. “Really?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You owe me a favor for letting you crash at mine during that storm,” she said. 

“What do you want?” Crier asked, and Ayla grinned at the interest in her voice.

She grabbed Crier’s hand from where it rested on the balcony and threaded their fingers together.

She looked up at Crier. “I’d like a dance.”

❀

When Ayla got home later that evening, after drying off in Crier’s bathroom, Benjy was waiting for her at the counter. It had been thirty minutes since the store closed, and Benjy was counting the money in the till. He looked up when she entered and grinned.

“So?” he asked as she walked over to him and plopped down an oreo milkshake on the counter. He looked down at it and then back up at Ayla. “I assume everything is good with you and Crier then.”

She smacked him in the arm. “You knew I was going to Crier’s house, and you didn’t _warn_ me?”

Benjy smiled sheepishly at her. “To be fair, I thought if I had told you the address was hers, you wouldn’t have gone.” Ayla groaned into her hands and he added, “But at least I made you change your clothes!”

“I should’ve guessed you were putting me up to something. You’re really bad at lying,” she said and leaned against the counter.

Benjy hummed in acknowledgment, drinking the milkshake while he continued to count the money.

“So… We did make up and…” This time it was Ayla’s turn to smile sheepishly at Benjy. “I’m going to her father’s party tomorrow night.”

Benjy choked on his milkshake, spewing oreo bits over the counter. “Sorry, sorry,” he wheezed, grabbing a paper towel from under the counter to wipe it up. As he began to wipe he said, “Explain.”

“Crier asked me,” she said. “The day I made her leave. That’s how I found out who her father is.”

“And you want to go?” Benjy asked, pausing in his cleaning to look at her, confused. “What if you see Hesod? You can barely stand to see his face in the newspaper.”

“I just-” Ayla sighed. “I wanted to make it up to Crier. She really didn’t want to go to this thing alone. It’s the least I can do.”

Benjy whistled. “You are _whipped.”_

Ayla’s face turned red and she smacked Benjy in the arm again. “Shut up! I am _not.”_

Benjy just laughed, sipping on his milkshake again. “So what? The party’s tomorrow?”

Ayla nodded.

“Alright, up, up, forget about work for a second, this is an emergency.” Benjy grabbed her arm and yanked her up the stairs.

“What are you doing?” 

He dragged her into her bedroom and pushed her onto the bed. He walked over to her closet and threw the door open. 

“How many dresses do you own?” he asked, sorting through her hanging clothes. “Or would you prefer to wear a suit? Mine probably won’t fit you and it’s too late now to rent one.”

“A dress is fine,” she answered, leaning back on the bed. “And I own two.”

 _“Two?”_ Benjy shrieked. “They better be good,” he mumbled to himself. He searched through the closet until he found where she kept her dresses and pulled them out. 

The first one was a short pink dress with plastic sequins on the upper part matched with a frilly skirt. There was a yellow stain on the front of the skirt and a handful of sequins were missing.

Benjy made a disgusted noise. “Why do you _own_ this?” he asked, mortified. 

“I used it for a Halloween costume once! I thought I could reuse it for another costume sometime.”

He shook his head. “No, Ayla, this belongs in the trash.” He tossed it to the side and pulled out the other dress. He made a noise in the back of his throat. “This is much, much better.”

It was a long, silky, red dress with a slit that showed off her legs. It was tight around the waist area which complimented her figure. The top came straight across under her collarbones and was tied to her left bicep, leaving her right arm completely sleeveless. 

She’d bought it on impulse a year ago after seeing it in a shop’s window. It had been surprisingly cheap, and she’d felt like she needed to get it, but she’d never worn it before. She’d never had a reason to, but now she did. 

“Shoes?” Benjy asked, diving back into her closet. 

As he looked for shoes, Ayla ran her hand over the dress. She wondered if Crier would find her attractive in it. Then she wondered what Crier would be wearing. 

“Here.” Benjy startled her out of her thoughts by tossing a pair of black heels next to her on the bed. “Go change, I want to see it all together.”

When she came back out of the bathroom, dress and heels on, Benjy looked up from his phone and his mouth dropped open.

“Ayla! You look amazing!” He ran over and spun her around the bedroom, making her laugh. He stopped and looked down at her, his hands still on her waist. “Oh, Crier is going to _love_ this.”

Ayla blushed and ducked her head. She looked over at the full length mirror by the closet door, her eyes stuck on her reflection. She _did_ look amazing. She looked at Benjy through the mirror as he watched her from over her shoulder. “Do you really think so?”

He nodded. He came closer and put his hands on Ayla’s shoulders. “I say this from the bottom of my heart; Crier would be crazy not to.” He caught her eyes through the mirror and grinned madly. 

She grinned back, believing him.

❀

The next evening, Benjy pulled up to Crier’s house and whistled lowly. There was a long line of cars along the road and driveway, all flashy models. The lights were on in the house and Ayla watched people milling in and out, chatting and drinking champagne. Ayla had never had champagne. 

Benjy peered up at the house through the windshield. “That’s not a house, that’s a castle,” he joked.

Ayla swallowed. The few people making their way up to the house spared glances at their beat up car, whispering to each other. Anxiously, she rested her hand against the necklace her mother had given her as a child, attempting to calm herself down.

“Benjy… I don’t think I can do this,” she admitted, looking away from their stares.

“Hey,” he said gently, unbuckling his seatbelt so he could twist around to face Ayla. He grabbed her hands and held them over the console between them. “Out of all of these snobby, rich people, Crier wanted you to be her plus one. She wants you there Ayla, not anyone else. _You.”_

“But what if she sees me and regrets it?”

Benjy’s eyebrows rose to his hairline and he looked down at Ayla’s dress. “You look like a million bucks,” he said, and Ayla could hear the sincerity in his voice. He looked back up at her. “All these people are just jealous you can pull it off with less money than them.”

Ayla snorted and rolled her eyes. 

“I’m serious!”

“I know you are, Benjy.” She smiled at him, overwhelmed with love for her best friend. 

“I love you,” he said, pulling her into a hug, her arm digging into the gearshift.

She buried her head into the crook of his neck. “I love you, too.”

They sat there, embracing each other until Benjy pulled away and said, “Alright,” and put his arms on Ayla’s shoulders, suddenly serious. “Time to go get your girl.” 

Ayla laughed and hugged Benjy one last time before she got out of the car, giving Benjy a wave as he pulled out of the driveway. He waved back and then he was gone, and Ayla was alone on Hesod’s front lawn. 

She looked around, grateful to see only a few people giving her odd looks. She followed a young couple up to the front door and was met with a tall man asking her for her name.

“Um, Ayla,” she answered, glancing into the house to see if she could spot Crier, but there were too many people.

The man tapped something into the tablet in his hands and told her, “Wait here one moment.”

Ayla blanched. Wait here? Was her name not on the list? Had Crier lied to her? No, no, Crier wouldn’t do that. Maybe this had something to do with Hesod. Had he found out Crier was bringing her and had told security not to let her in? 

As her mind came up with more reasons why she had to wait while the other couple had simply walked in, Crier came bounding out of the house, her smile dazzling.

“Ayla!” she greeted her.

Oh, _oh._ The security guard must have told Crier she’d arrived. That put a smile on her face, and she let Crier take her hand and pull her into the house. As they walked past the guests, Ayla looked down at Crier’s dress. It was stunning. It was the same silky fabric as Ayla’s own, but it was silver, and had a thin belt wrapping around her waist. Unlike Ayla’s, Crier’s dress had a sweetheart neckline and the dress wrapped around both of her biceps. 

If she’d looked like a princess yesterday in her room in a sweater and sweatpants, she looked like a queen right now. 

Crier let go of her once they were by a long buffet table filled with food Ayla didn’t even know the names of. Ayla had to do a double take when she saw a - honest to God - _chocolate fountain._ She wished Benjy could see this. 

“This is my favorite part of my father’s parties,” Crier whispered to her conspiratorially. She’d taken a fancy napkin and had begun piling food onto it.

Ayla followed her lead as Crier began to explain what at the table was good and what wasn’t. She was shocked to admit that she was already having fun. Crier seemed to know that Ayla had never been to a celebration like this and was doing her best to make Ayla comfortable. 

The idea made her stomach erupt into butterflies. 

After they’d loaded up on food and grabbed drinks, Crier led her to an alcove by a window where they sat and watched the guests, giggling as they made up stories for them. 

Crier laughed at Ayla’s story of the man who was dancing wildly in a bright blue suit in the middle of the ballroom and then dropped her gaze from the guests to look at Ayla. 

“You look really pretty,” she said, ducking her head and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Her head snapped up. “Not- Not that you don’t look pretty everyday! Because you do! It’s just- I mean-”

“Crier,” Ayla said, halting her rambling by placing her hand over Crier’s where it rested on the stone bench between them. “You look really pretty, too.”

Crier looked down at Ayla’s hand and then back up at Ayla’s face. Something seemed to dawn on her and she opened her mouth. “Ayla, I-”

“Good evening Crier,” a male voice spoke up. Ayla let go of Crier’s hand like she’d been burned and looked up to find a man around their age watching them with cool eyes. “I don’t think you’ve introduced me to your… Friend, yet.” 

Ayla glanced at Crier and found her clenching her jaw.

“Kinok,” the man said, just as the pieces clicked together in Ayla’s head. He held out his hand. “You must be Ayla.”

“I am,” she said, and shook his hand. His hands were rough in hers, nothing like the softness of Crier’s. She pulled away almost immediately. “Crier’s told me about you.”

He smiled. “All good things, I hope.”

Ayla shrugged. “Not really.”

Crier, who’d been sipping her drink, choked on it but masked it with a cough. Kinok’s eyes darkened and he swiveled his gaze to Crier. 

He held a hand out to her. “Will you join me for a dance?” he asked.

Ayla swore she saw red.

“Oh, um, I would rather not leave Ayla alone-”

“Nonsense,” he said, and it took all of Ayla’s willpower not to deck him right then and there. “It’ll just be one dance.”

_Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t-_

“Alright,” Crier said and took his hand. He helped her up and pulled her to the middle of the ballroom, where the rest of the guests were dancing. She shot a look back at Ayla before Kinok spun her around and pulled her close.

The music was slow and they swayed together. It was clear, even from this far away, that Crier was uncomfortable. She followed Kinok’s steps as he spoke quietly to her. He spun her a few times to the beat of the music and every time she came back, he would whisper into her ear. 

Ayla had seen enough. She stood up, abandoning her drink. She moved between the crowd and waited for the right moment to swoop in. She watched as Kinok spun Crier again and then Ayla was moving.

“Mind if I cut in?” she said smoothly, grabbing Crier’s waist before Kinok could, pulling her close like he’d been doing. She put a protective hand at the small of Crier’s back. “Crier owes me a dance.” 

Kinok’s eyes flashed, but then he was bowing slightly. “Of course,” he said tightly. He left without another word. 

Ayla looked at Crier and found her face inches from her own. She took a step back, giving them both some room. She kept her hands on her waist while Crier placed her hands on Ayla’s shoulders.

“For someone half Kinok’s size, that was very brave,” Crier smirked.

“Hey!” Ayla exclaimed. “I’m not that short!”

“And I’m not that tall,” she replied, one eyebrow quirking up. She leaned closer, her mouth brushing Ayla’s ear. “But really, thank you.” 

Ayla swallowed around the lump in her throat. “You don’t have to thank me. I could tell you were uncomfortable.”

Crier pulled back and pretended to swoon. “My hero.”

Ayla laughed. “Come on,” she said, spinning them around. “You owe me a dance.”

They danced for what felt like hours. Each song blended into the next as they moved around the ballroom. Ayla couldn’t stop staring at Crier. She practically _glowed_ under the ballroom lights. Her dress shone and her jewelry dazzled, but it was _herself_ that truly radiated light. 

Ayla hadn’t wanted to admit it because she felt like it was a lost cause, but she couldn’t lie anymore. She _liked_ Crier, she really, really liked her. She pictured herself confessing to Crier by drawing her close and kissing her in front of all of her father’s guests. She’d pull away, tuck that stray strand of hair behind Crier’s ear and say-

“Crier,” a deep voice rumbled from beside Ayla.

She almost leapt out of her skin, but Crier’s hands on her shoulders grounded her. She glanced to the side to find Hesod watching them curiously. Behind him stood Kinok, smirking. 

“I didn’t realize this was your new friend,” he said, quiet enough that only Crier and Ayla could hear, his eyes cutting over to Ayla.

Ayla noticed that the room seemed to fall quiet. The music was still playing and people were still talking and dancing, but she could tell they were watching their interaction closely. 

Ayla let go of Crier’s waist and took a step back. “So you _do_ recognize me?” She crossed her arms. “I’m surprised. I thought I would have been just one face in a sea of a thousand people you tried to screw over.”

The whispers picked up and Ayla held back a smirk. She wanted these people to know what Hesod had done to her and countless others. Even if they didn’t care, even if they laughed later on at the girl who tried to stand up to the governor, at least they would know the truth. 

“I’m sorry,” he said louder. “You must be mistaking me for someone else.”

“No, no, I don’t believe I am,” she replied, smile dropping. 

Hesod turned to his daughter, who was silently watching them. “Crier, maybe next time we should discuss who you bring beforehand. Someone more… Suitable.” 

“What’s wrong with Ayla? She is a citizen of Rabu, is she not?” Crier’s voice echoed across the room. “Why would you not want one of your citizens, one who put you back in power, to attend your reelection party?” 

Ayla wanted to say she definitely never voted for Hesod but held her tongue. She understood the point Crier was trying to make. 

“Unless… You didn’t abide by your oath to serve the people of Rabu. You wouldn’t do something like that, would you, father?” Crier asked sweetly. It was so sweet that it was obvious she knew the truth.

Ayla felt the crowd draw closer.

“Of course not,” Hesod said and cast a nervous glance around the room. “I have the interest of all the people of Rabu-”

“No,” Crier snapped at her father, and the people around them gasped. “No, you don’t because Ayla is one of those people of Rabu you speak of, and you didn’t have her best interest did you? _Did you?”_ she yelled louder. “You only had _yours!”_

Hesod shook his head. He was watching Crier like she was a child who didn’t understand and was too foolish to learn. “You can’t help every single person, Crier, don’t be naive.” 

“If being naive means being a good fucking person then I’ll gadly be naive for the rest of my life.”

Ayla almost gasped along with the guests. Kinok always seemed so composed, but she spared a glance at him and found his jaw on the floor. She’d never heard Crier cuss before, and she guessed Kinok hadn’t either. 

Hesod’s mouth twisted like he’d tasted something bad. “Are you implying I’m not a good person?” he hissed.

Crier looked her father up and down. “If the shoe fits.”

Her father’s face turned red. He leaned closer to Crier, and he spoke so quietly, Ayla strained to hear him. “We will be discussing this later. Now get _out.”_

“Gladly,” she snarled, and grabbed Ayla’s hand, pulling her out of the ballroom.

With one glance back, Ayla flipped Hesod and Kinok off with her free hand, sticking her tongue out for good measure. 

Their red faces made Ayla giddy with delight. 

The crowd parted for them as Crier led her through the house, past lingering couples who spared them confused glances until they were outside in the garden. Ayla wanted to stop and look around the house's garden because it was _gorgeous,_ nothing like she’d seen before, but her main concern was Crier. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, following Crier through the garden, passing fountains and flowers and trees. There were lampposts every few paces lighting the way. It was gorgeous even under the moonlight, and Ayla wondered what it looked like during the day.

“I can’t believe I yelled at my father in front of all those people,” Crier said. She seemed like she didn’t have a destination, like she was walking just to get away. 

But then she stopped and Ayla realized they were in the middle of a hedge maze, and in the center was a stone bench. It was obvious she’d be here many times before. The idea that Crier had escaped from her house to hide out here made Ayla ache in a spot close to her heart.

Crier sat down and Ayla sat beside her.

Ayla ducked her head. “Crier, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault-”

“You’re _sorry?_ Why?” Crier laughed, and Ayla realized she was smiling. “Telling my father off felt _amazing.”_

“But what are you going to say when he comes to talk to you?”

Crier shrugged. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter what he says to me anymore. I know who he really is.” She tilted her head back and looked up at the full moon. “Did I tell you that my father knew I didn’t like Kinok, and yet he _still_ wanted me to attend the party with him.”

“You really don’t like that guy,” Ayla laughed. “And I don’t blame you. He was a complete ass back there.” 

“Yeah.” Crier snorted out a laugh, bumping Ayla’s shoe with her own. “He’s really not my type.”

Ayla looked up at Crier. “What is your type?”

Crier turned her head to look at her. She smiled fondly and Ayla’s heart skipped a beat because Crier was looking at _her_ like _that._ And then Crier said, “Girls who like to pick fights with people they definitely shouldn’t.”

Ayla shook her head and huffed out a laugh. “She seems like a handful,” she joked, her stomach filled with thousands of butterflies the same shade as Crier’s eyes.

Crier hummed. “She is. But that’s what I like about her.” 

They were silent for a moment, listening to the crickets in the garden and then Ayla, in a brave act she’d never thought she’d have the courage for, asked Crier, “Can I kiss you?”

She thought back to all those weeks ago, when Crier had said she was so happy she could kiss Ayla, but then had said she was joking and that she wouldn’t kiss her, but, in that moment, with the moon watching them from above them, and Crier saying all _that,_ Ayla _really believed-_

“I’ve been waiting _all night_ to hear you say that,” Crier said, deflating like all the tension in her body had vanished. 

Ayla quirked an eyebrow, her stomach fluttering and her mouth curling up into a smile. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, yes, yes, a hundred times, _yes,”_ Crier breathed and took Ayla’s face into her hands, finally, _finally,_ kissing her. 

It wasn’t like Ayla had imagined it would be. It was awkward and clumsy and their teeth knocked against each other and Ayla’s nose was digging hard into Crier’s cheek. It was far from perfect but it was so, so _good_ because it was _Crier._ Ayla was kissing the girl she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about and it was fucking _fantastic_ in her eyes.

Crier pulled away first and let her fingers trail down Ayla’s cheeks and jaw before she dropped them into her lap. She cleared her throat, breaking the silence.

“That was nice.”

Ayla snorted out a laugh and Crier blushed. “Nice? I kiss the life out of you and all you say is it was _nice?”_

“Well it was!” Her blush was stronger than Ayla had ever seen it. “I’ve never kissed anyone before!”

“Oh,” Ayla said, and then noticed that Crier looked shy, avoiding her eyes. “Well, I’m honored to be your first. I’m glad it was _nice_ for you.”

“Shut up,” Crier laughed, knocking Ayla with her shoulder, her shyness disappearing. 

They fell back into silence, but it was a comfortable silence. Ayla leaned her head on Crier’s shoulder and closed her eyes, listening to the crickets and the faint music coming from the house. 

“What do you want to do now?” Ayla asked, keeping her eyes closed.

Crier moved a little, scooting closer. “What do you mean?” 

Ayla gestured to the house’s roof that she could see over the hedges. “Are you going to stay here?” 

Ayla didn’t want Crier to stay. She wanted her to pack her things and get away from her father and start a new life where everyone she met appreciated her ideas and paintings and unorganized room and didn’t make her feel like she had to be alone anymore. But that was asking a lot.

“I mean, I can’t just leave,” she said, and Ayla knew that, but she was still disappointed to hear it. Crier sighed. “But I think I will. Eventually. When I’m ready.”

That was enough for Ayla. A promise that Crier would get out of that lonely house one day. At least, for now, Crier had her and Benjy and a home above a flower shop to crash at whenever she wanted. 

“How about you and I go on a road trip?” Ayla suggested, turning her whole body on the bench to see Crier’s reaction. 

Crier laughed and then saw Ayla’s expression. “Wait- You’re serious?”

“Yeah!” Ayla exclaimed, and waved her hands around as she explained. “It would be like a little taste of freedom to show you what it’s like to live without your father breathing down your neck!”

Crier laughed again, and Ayla wondered what the most beautiful sound had been to her before she’d heard Crier’s laugh. 

“Okay,” Crier said. “Let’s do it. You and me.”

“You and me,” Ayla agreed, and swooped back in to kiss Crier, their laughter echoing through the moonlit garden and out into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
